And really, the boy was here in the Hall of Virtues. He must have known that when he walked into the castle and came through these doors he was doing something wrong. Still he came. For that arrogance the boy deserved to pay a price.
Keeping his eyes firmly on Imogen’s face, Andreus straightened his shoulders and said, “This boy stole a purse. Thefts must be punished. If they are not, it only encourages others to incite trouble in our city and the kingdom. The punishment for theft is the loss of a hand.”
“But I didn’t do it, Your Highness,” the boy cried. “They—”
“Silence,” Andreus snapped. “By interrupting you have shown clearly that you have no respect for the lords of this land. Not only did you steal a purse, but you used a weapon to do so.”
“Andreus,” Carys said.
He could hear the concern in his sister’s voice and he shoved it to the side. Thinking of the throne sitting just behind him, he walled up any pity he felt for the boy and instead focused on the way everyone waited for him to continue. High Lords hung on his every word. The Council of Elders and the guard were waiting to act as he ordered. Terror made the boy on the floor shake.
They all watched him as he had always seen people look at his father. He was no longer the one who guarded a terrible secret—no longer the one that was cursed. He was the one with power.
“To allow you to walk free would be a signal to all of Eden that attacking a lord is allowed.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Andreus!”
He wasn’t listening to his sister or the boy. He felt the power of the throne calling to him as he said, “For the crime of attacking a lord with a knife, stealing from him, and open disrespect to the throne, I order this criminal put to death.”
Elder Cestrum stepped forward. “The Council agrees with Prince Andreus. The boy is to be taken to the North Tower, where he will be executed as the Prince of this land has decreed.”
“No,” the youth said, shaking his head at the same time Carys yelled, “Andreus! What are you doing?”
The lights flickered in the hall. The shining orbs hanging from above began to sway as Captain Monteros yanked the boy to his feet and shoved him toward the two guards.
“It wasn’t me,” the boy shouted. “Your Highness. You have to believe me. It wasn’t me!” He pulled himself free of the guards’ grasp and came racing toward the dais. His hands were clasped in front of him—begging for mercy.
“I didn’t do it,” Varn shouted. “Please, Your Highness. Please—”
Light flashed off the steel in Captain Monteros’s blade as it slashed through the air.
Andreus heard his sister scream.
The lights flickered again. Captain Monteros’s sword bit into and through flesh. Blood spurted like a fountain, staining the white floor. Shrieks rang through the room and then went silent as the boy’s body crumpled to the ground and his head landed with a thud and rolled toward the dais.
When the Chief Elder stepped forward and declared Andreus the winner of both the ball and the extra trial, putting him two points closer to the throne—closer to the power he had just wielded—Andreus knew he should be horrified by what he had done.
The boy was dead. His words were the sword that killed him.
He had crossed a line he had never thought he would cross.
Regret bubbled up inside him. But when he saw Imogen’s understanding expression and saw Elder Jacobs nod when he met his eyes, Andreus shoved it back down instead, focused on the rush of strength and control. That power was what he wanted. That power would let him destroy the curse that had controlled his life since the day he was born. Once he had the throne, the “curse” would be no more and the people he had always feared would realize they should now fear him.
No, he would not regret his choice.
A glance at his sister shaking and sweating as she looked up at him with horror told him exactly what line he had to cross next.
15
Her head rang. Her heart pounded. Everything inside her screamed as she remembered the way her brother stepped in front of the Throne of Light with the dead body lying below him. There had been a smile on Andreus’s lips as Elder Cestrum spoke, but Carys couldn’t make sense of the words. Nothing made sense. The world was spinning. The lights above swayed and Carys felt a swirl of air pull at her skirts while she stared at the blood spread across the shining white stone floor.
A boy. No more than twelve or thirteen.
Just a boy.
“Princess, wait,” a voice called to her as she hurried down the corridor—away from the Hall of Virtues, and her brother, and the senseless death he had brought to an innocent boy.
She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not after what had just happened. She couldn’t stay and smile and act as though nothing was wrong while her brother accepted congratulations for his victory and Captain Monteros supervised his guard picking up the headless body and carrying it away.
The blood on the white stone floor would be cleaned. In mere minutes, maybe even right now, people would be dancing atop the spot where the boy had begged for his life and lost it. And her brother would smile and dance with them.
She couldn’t think about Andreus and what he had commanded in the Hall of Virtues. Her brother wasn’t heartless. It was the reason she thought he would make a great ruler. He believed in compassion. She had been certain he would do what was best for the kingdom.
Instead he struck a blow to the foundation of her world. She couldn’t stay in the Hall and she couldn’t go back to her rooms. Not yet. Not with the image of her brother’s satisfied smile playing over and over in her head. If she returned to her rooms now the need to drown those images with Tears of Midnight would be too strong for her to deny. It was everything she could do to keep herself from heading for the stairs and giving in to that desire.
Soon.
First, before the Tears blissfully chased the world away, she had to get to the stables. If Larkin had been hiding there for hours, there had to be a very good reason why. And if it was about Imogen, Carys needed to know exactly what that reason was.
She turned down a torchlit hallway, hoping to discourage the person following her. The footsteps behind her stopped. Then they started again . . . faster and getting closer.
Putting her hands in her pockets, Carys grabbed the handles of the stilettos, drew the blades, and turned.
Lord Errik stopped in his tracks and put his hands up in the air. “I apologize for startling you, Princess.”
“Don’t you know it’s a bad idea to pursue a lady who doesn’t wish to be followed?” she asked.
“In my experience, most ladies who are being pursued want to be caught. Clearly, Princess, you aren’t most ladies.” When she didn’t lower her weapons, his expression turned serious. “After what just happened with your brother and the attempt on his life earlier, I was worried about you being alone in these halls. Eden doesn’t appear to be a very safe place right now.”